


Don't call me "Jammy"

by TeaandBanjo



Category: Ms Fisher's MODern Murder Mysteries (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 04:21:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21451939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaandBanjo/pseuds/TeaandBanjo
Summary: Miss Peregrine wants information from Detective Steed.  She finds out something else entirely.  ...and drinks some tea.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Don't call me "Jammy"

Peregrine sat in the guest chair, and pulled her skirt down. It didn't reach her knees. 

Detective Steed’s desk was somewhat cluttered. She resisted the urge to read it all, although it was hard to avoid the general feeling that most of it was some sort of busy work.

The Detective himself was at the far side of the room, where a small table held an electric kettle and an assortment of teacups and boxes of tea. James shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and tapped his fingers as the kettle started to make noises.

He looked over his shoulder. “Do you take sugar, Miss Fisher? I forgot to ask last time.”

“One,” interrupted Constable Connor, as she passed with a pile of folders.

His brow creased in confusion, which reminded Peregrine of a small schoolboy caught without an answer to the teacher’s question about the capital of New South Wales.

“She’s right, Jammy,” replied Pere, winking at Fleur.

He turned away and seemed to be reading a posted list of procedures for logging your overtime. Peregrine didn’t believe it for a minute, as his shoulders were completely rigid under his jacket. Perhaps she had been a little too flippant.

The kettle whistled.

Steed poured the water, and returned with the two cups.

She smiled thanks, accepted the cup, and tried to figure out how to bring up her questions. Phryne Fisher had taken extensive notes, but there were always details that went missing, somehow.

The detective sighed and set down his cup on a stack of some sort of carbon-paper forms.

“Please don’t call me Jammy.” 

Peregrine tried to close her mouth. There were words to apologize….

“It’s alright,” he continued, “you didn’t know. It reminds me too much of my ruthless Aunt Georgina. She has decided that I’m called ‘Jammy’ when she wants me to listen to a lecture.”

She set her cup into the saucer with a click. “I’m sorry.”

“She’s my mother’s very much older sister, and she is very very critical of my life.” Steed’s forehead creased. “She was pleased when I got promoted, but other than that its questions of what am I doing to make myself a better person, and am I working too hard, and when am I going to meet a nice young lady?”

“I’m sure she means well,” offered Peregrine. “Aunts can be quite eccentric. In fact…”

“She thinks I should be getting more recognition.” He waved his hand as if to shoo a fly. “If it could lead to recognition, the credit is going to go to Sparrow. You saw how that works.”

“I did.” She recalled the headlines crediting Sparrow for solving the tragic murder of a department-store model. Barbie Jones was dead, much too young, in a complicated family drama, but it seemed that Sparrow was mostly interested in how he appeared in the papers, and who was going to hand him wads of cash.

“So, I tried to explain,” continued James. “and she tells me I need to get a transfer to somewhere else.”

“She has a point. You aren’t actually chained to this desk.” Peregrine was starting to feel as if she had accidentally fallen in a large hole, and there was no obvious way out.

“I just need to sit tight until Sparrow moves up.” His fist clenched for a moment.

“Your Aunt Georgina is trying to tell you that you have options, James.” Peregrine tugged her folder out from under her purse. “There are other police departments, other things to do. If you can’t escape by the door, try a window.”

Steed frowned at her. “Is this your approach to all your problems? Because I can sort of see how it might get you into trouble.”

She took a deep breath. It was time to change the subject, before either one of them said something regrettable.

“I didn’t come here to discuss police department politics, Detective Steed.” She smiled, as sweetly as she knew how. “I know nothing about them, and wouldn’t dream of trying to advise you. I’m sure you are exactly where you want to be, career wise.”

He gave her a puzzled, sideways look. 

Had she laid it on a little too thick?

“Why did you drop by, Miss Fisher?” He sat up straighter, and spread his hands on the desk.

“Well, I’ve been going through my aunt’s case notebooks.” She pushed the folder across the desk. “She solved the theft of some rubies, and her notes are very clear that she had some police assistance, but I was hoping you could give me the whole story.”

He opened the folder, glanced through the stiff paper prints of Phryne’s blurry, smudged notes….

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this months and months ago. I guess I should post it!


End file.
